After absconding from Yo Ling’s island with a veritable fortune, Zian committed every spare moment towards exercise, training, and study. For the first time in his life, he regretted all the hours and coin wasted on dalliances with serving girls and merchant's daughters. All his life, he’d considered himself a genius among geniuses, ahead of his peers at every step of the journey, but the events in and around Sanshu had shown just how little his genius mattered in the grand scheme of things, a notion he found... distressing. All his superiority amounted to nothing when matched against Defiled peasants, his seven duels against the nameless champions opening his eyes to how high the heavens truly were.
This line of thinking brought him here, waiting outside Rain’s large, leather-lined tent for the ninth day in a row. Bundled from head to toe in his warmest winter clothes, the chill winds cut straight to the bone, leaving him cold and miserable as he cursed Lady Sumila’s inability to keep to a proper schedule, coming every afternoon to feed Rain’s birds. It was the height of absurdity, asking a fair damsel like Sumila to carry out a servant’s duty and Zian had half a mind to publicly condemn the ignorant savage for mistreating a wonderful woman like her. Possessing overwhelming speed and staggering strength, Sumila was a grand talent and the perfect sparring partner, not to mention the formidable slave at her side Zian had yet to test. To be betrothed to such an incredible woman and have her carrying out his chores, Rain was blessed beyond all measure.
Unfortunately, though Zian sought to test the fair maiden’s skills, Lady Sumila was being difficult, to put it lightly. Ignoring her erratic schedule and surly demeanour, when he first tracked her down and requested a spar, she immediately set out for a public venue despite his intentions to carry out their spar in a more private setting. Since he’d only brought the one carriage, he thought maybe his admittedly salacious past made her leery of being in close quarters with him. Therefore, the next day he brought two carriages and invited the slave along, even making sure the driver and servants were all women. This too was ignored. Thinking her decision could have been made in ignorance, the third day he gave orders to leave the carriages waiting in full view, almost obstructing the path into this ring of tents. Once again, his preparations went ignored and Zian was left with no choice but to admit the harsh truth he so wished to deny: Sumila sought to bolster her name by trampling over his own.
For a brief, infinitesimally fleeting moment, Zian considered going along with her plan. Sumila, Daughter of Akanai was a formidable talent, having shown herself to be more than his match in single combat. Were it not for his Aura and her noble refusal to seek outside help defending against it, Zian would have tasted defeat in every single one of their matches. The thought of leaving such a peerless paragon of skill and virtue languishing in obscurity offended his sensibilities, almost an act of sacrilege in a nation which valued strength above all else. What harm could there be in allowing her a single, inconsequential victory?
After his short bout with insanity, Zian quickly returned to his senses. In these times of trouble, the last thing Uncle Yang needed was to learn of his nephew's second defeat at the hands of yet another nameless ‘tribal savage’. The Situ Clan and Society could not afford to lose face right now, especially not to the Bekhai. In light of this, Zian steeled his resolve. Since the other party refused to give face, why should he? Thus, he had Jukai announce his victory at the end of each spar, making sure everyone at the Wall learned of his victory over Sumila, Daughter of Akanai. Although the commoners spoke only of her loss, to even be mentioned in the same breath alongside Situ Jia Zian was a feat worthy of praise. What’s more, he believed the public nature of her losses would make her reconsider sparring in a public venue, leaving his twin carriages waiting in plain sight.
It was the perfect solution to a delicate problem, but Zian had overlooked one important fact: The Bekhai rarely behaved in a rational, conventional manner. Each day, after feeding Rain’s birds, Sumila would lead him to the same public stage and each day, he found himself surprised by her strength as she attempted to overwhelm him before he brought his Aura to bear. After his humiliating defeat at Rain’s hands, Zian thought Baatar was blowing hot air when he claimed Rain wasn’t the strongest youth of the Bekhai, but now he knew better. Whether it be skill or talent, Sumila was far superior to Rain. If she were also to Condense her Aura at the age of eighteen, then the title of number one talent in the North would undoubtedly be hers.
After the first two spars, the soldiers took notice and did as soldiers were wont to do; they gathered in droves to gamble on the outcome. By itself, this meant little to Zian, but when he noticed the terms of their bets, his mood turned dark. Not one of the gambling dens offered odds on who would win the match, since only a fool would put coin on a seventeen year old girl besting the former number one talent in the North, especially since he was now twenty five years old. No, instead, they offered odds on how many exchanges would take place in their match. A lucrative decision since this stacked the odds in favour of the house, but their signs filled him with bitter shame and embarrassment, for written upon their signboards was ‘Number of exchanges before the match ends’.
Not ‘number of exchanges before Situ Jia Zian wins’.
A trifling distinction, but one which made all the difference in the world. While the details might be lost on the general population, how could these veteran soldiers not recognize the truth on display before them? Zian’s ‘victories’ were a farce, any idiot with even a smidgen of skill could see Sumila held the upper hand in each of their spars. In their first match, Zian held out for thirty-seven exchanges before unleashing his Aura to avoid a loss at Sumila’s hands. In the eyes of these soldiers, this was no spar but simply the old bullying the weak, a dishonourable and disreputable act.
Perhaps it was time to put an end to these little spars. Uncle Yang disapproved of them and even Jukai voiced his objections after Sumila’s latest monumental display of strength, overpowering Zian in a mere three exchanges. Since she repeatedly refused his gestures of good faith, why should he continue to make a mockery of his good name? He was Situ Jia Zian, a man on the cusp of forming his Natal Palace which is what he should be focusing on. This next step on the Martial Path was pivotal to his future success, far more important than a frivolous match against a slovenly, discourteous, habitually tardy, temperamental young maiden, especially one already betrothed to another.
Yes, ending these spars was the right decision, so after today, he would wash his hands of it all. It had nothing to do with her tear-filled eyes glaring at him after her latest defeat, so full of hatred and vitriol it pierced through the deepest, darkest corners of his soul.
“Rainy!”
A shrill, energetic voice interrupted Zian’s introspection and he glanced up to see a white-haired half-goat girl of six or seven years emerging from Rain’s tent, accompanied by a trio of roosequin pups. Arriving on foot, Rain caught the girl in his arms and twirled her about, laughing as she shrieked in delight. Why was he here? Unlike Sumila, Rain kept to a rigorous schedule, leaving in the early morning for his mountain training camp and returning long after sunset, diligence one of his few redeemable attributes. Accepting that his spars with Sumila were now at an end, Zian lamented the wasted time and stepped forward to greet Rain as manners demanded, intending to leave immediately afterwards to find a new sparring partner. Before he could speak, Rain's fat, over-sized mount placed itself between Zian and the pups, snarling as it was joined by two other fully-grown roosequins. Eyeing their curled lips and sharp teeth, Zian took a step back, unwilling to tangle with creatures protecting their young. While he could easily deal with them using his Aura, sometimes animals reacted... unpredictably when threatened. While waiting for Rain to diffuse this delicate situation, his fury rose to new levels as the damned savage glanced over before ignoring him completely.
If only he hadn’t given Jukai permission to wait in the carriage. The old man was probably too busy flirting with the serving girls to notice Zian’s plight, an amorous fellow despite his advanced age. Zian could only grin and bear this insult, adding it to his growing tally of grievances.
Hateful and conniving as he was, Rain was beloved by children, peasants, and dumb animals alike, all easily beguiled by his phony virtuous and moralistic platitudes. His act wasn’t fooling Zian, he’d seen the look in Rain’s eyes as he spewed hateful rhetoric and despicable threats during their duel. No matter how much he hid or denied it, Rain was and would always be a killer, one who revelled in conflict and bloodshed. His lust and lechery were a matter of fact, betrothed to two women and now apparently setting his sights on a third. By the Mother, the beast had no qualms, even keeping such a tender young child in his tent to warm his bed. Such sin and depravity, Sumila deserved better than this.
“Hello Tali my sweetling.” Placing her down, he put his hands on his hips in a show of mock rebuke, chiding the little girl. “Now, delighted as I am to see you, what are you doing lazing about? Shouldn’t you be out training right now?”
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Avoiding the question, the child tugged on Rain’s pant leg and pointed into the tent. “Papa and me made treats this morning, lets make tea and eat them, ya?”
Pinching her cheek, Rain crouched down and turned the child to face him. “Tali, you can’t keep slacking off. You should work hard like Tate. Training might not be fun, but you have to keep practising.”
“No!” The child exclaimed, crossing her arms with a pout. “I don’t wanna train and be a warrior, I wanna learn to cook like Papa and make yummy treats.”
Zian expected a member from a warrior tribe like Rain to rebuke the girl’s declaration but instead he smiled and nodded. “I see. Have you told your parents?” At Tali’s shy shake of her head, Rain smiled. “Okay then, we’ll talk about it as a family later but even if things change, you still need to practise your Forms.”
“Why Rainy?! I don’t wanna fight, it’s scary and I hate it.”
“Wanna hear a secret?” Making a big show of it, Rain glanced around before leaning in to whisper loudly, “I feel the same way.”
Hmph. What crimes had Sumila committed in her past life to be betrothed to this conniving liar and sexual deviant? Oblivious to Zian’s disgust, Rain pinched Tali on the cheek and sighed. “I hate fighting. I’d much rather spend my days playing with you and the quins.”
“Then why you always training so hard Rainy?”
Smiling sadly, Rain answered, “Because sometimes life doesn’t give you a choice. I’m not trying to scare you sweetling, but the world isn’t always a safe place. There are so many fun, amazing things out there waiting for you to experience them, but there’s also nasty, dangerous things too. If you wanna be a cook, I’ll support you every step of the way, but you still have to learn the Forms. I pray you’ll never have to fight, but if there ever comes a day when you do need to, I want you to be prepared. Remember, better to have and not need than to need and not have. Got it?”
Profound words coming from an idiot like Rain. Tugging on her braids, Tali sulked and nodded. “Okay Rainy.”
“All right, off with you now. Go get your brother, we’ll have sweets and tea and then it’s right back to practice for the both of you.” As Tali ran off with a smile, the roosequin pups followed her away and so too did the parents, leaving Zian in a cold sweat. Feigning surprise, Rain looked up and smiled. “Young Magistrate Zian, I didn’t see you there,” Rain lied, his smile strained and eyes angry. “Forgive my poor hospitality, please step into my humble abode for tea and snacks.”
“Thank you, but I have other matters to attend to,” Zian replied, brushing off the false courtesy. Best to leave before those giant predators returned.
“Oh? What about your spar with Mila? She told me all about the two of you, how wonderful to hear you’re getting along splendidly.” Rain’s smile was no longer feigned, his sheer delight at Zian’s humiliation showing through. “There’s still time before she’s ready, so come in and warm yourself by the fire. Mila is many things, but punctual, she is not.”
Zian’s revulsion lost out to the promise of warmth and a match with Sumila, nodding a little too readily for his tastes. “Then we’ll do as you say.” Entering the tent, he winced at the cacophony of unholy squawks, having forgotten just how unpleasant those damnable birds could be. Taking a seat by the table, he warily eyed the golden wildcat as it flopped to the ground beside him, far more trusting than the roosequins outside. After lighting the coals, Rain placed a kettle over the flames and saw to his birds, uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire process.
No matter. Zian was in no mood for small talk as he warmed himself by the fire. He’d been avoiding Rain since their return for good reason, unable to trust himself to keep his temper. After thinking things through with a clear mind, he was certain he’d somehow been cheated of his proper share of Yo Ling’s treasure. After leaving the island, BoShui claimed they'd executed Jester Wang so no one could return to the island and Zian accepted this at face value, too consumed by greed and excitement. Upon further inspection, he found that things didn’t add up.
Even a blind, deaf, idiot would have noticed BoShui’s overnight transformation, no longer drinking himself into a stupor each day and taking up a strict training regimen which rivalled Zian’s own. Worse, the young patriarch of the Han Clan was too friendly with the Bekhai, often glancing at Rain with poorly disguised reverence. Exactly what happened on the island to change him so? BoShui claimed it was a near brush with death which opened his eyes, suffering grievous injury at the hands of a Defiled blacksmith before being saved by Rain.
What a load of horseshit. How could Han BoShui suffer so many internal injuries while his guards escaped without a single scratch on them?
Inwardly sighing, Zian grudgingly accepted this minor loss. So what if Rain took a larger share of the treasure? Zian was no greedy merchant obsessed with wealth. His share had all been delivered to his mother aside from a few choice gifts for Uncle Yang and Jukai. What need did he have for priceless paintings or pottery? In his eyes, only a buffoon with more coin than sense would pay tens of thousands of gold for a vase. With that much money, you might as well purchase something useful like a Spiritual Heart or Runic armour, which is exactly what he’d asked his mother to do.
Truth be told, and Zian would never admit this out loud, but he admired Rain’s work with his schools and charities. At least the cheated money went towards a good cause, helping those whose lives were impacted by the Defiled attack.
Thankfully, the roosequin pups remained outside as Tali returned with her brother, another half-goat child. So many different species of half-beasts among the Bekhai, it was obvious the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains hid a multitude of Ancestral Beasts, a disturbing proposition. No wonder the expedition to attack the Bekhai failed so horrendously, with not a single person escaping to tell the tale. He shuddered to think what might have happened if the Society had attacked in force.
Sharing the seat across from him, the two white-haired children stared with open curiosity while whispering with one another about his origins. Unaccustomed to dealing with children, Zian ignored them until Rain returned with a pot of tea, a box of baked pastries, and a pair of birds on his shoulders. After pouring four cups of tea, Rain added a large helping of butter to his own cup, much to Zian’s horror and disgust. “It’s not appealing or particularly tasty,” Rain said as he stirred his cup, “but I need the fat. Lost too much weight Healing myself these past few months, it’s really stunting my body’s growth.”
Drinking his tea in silence, Zian nibbled at the provided snacks and complimented Tali’s culinary skills. It wasn’t even a lie, the pastries were delicious, albeit too sweet for his tastes and a little misshapen. Regardless, his appetite fled at the sight of Rain drinking cup after cup of buttered tea, a travesty to both butter and tea alike.
After sending the children away and returning the birds to their cage, Rain refilled the teapot and left it to steep, patting his wildcat’s head as it grumbled in delight. “So,” Rain began, his eyes twinkling and bright. “I hear you’ve been sparring with Mila this past week. Eight matches and eight victories, how incredible. Young Magistrate Zian is truly a dragon among men.” His sarcastic tone left little to interpretation, but before Zian could reply, Rain asked, “Do you always bring two carriages everywhere you go?”
Oh good, the idiot noticed Zian’s intentions. “I arranged the second carriage for Lady Sumila after our first spar, although my efforts have thus far been ignored.”
“How kind of you, but my guess is your efforts weren’t ignored, only overlooked.” Shrugging, Rain added, “Mila is a smart girl, but incredibly stubborn. Once she makes up her mind there’s no changing it, no matter what else she sees. I thought something was off when she talked about your spars, but I didn’t connect the dots until I saw both carriages.”
What dots and what connections? After failing to puzzle through Rain’s words, Zian merely nodded and sipped his tea. Once it became clear Rain wouldn’t speak first, he asked, “Lady Sumila misjudged my intentions?”
“That depends. What are your intentions?”
Zian didn’t dignify him with a response. All he wanted was to test himself against Lady Sumila’s skills, he harboured no other improper or indecent motives for seeking her out.
...
Right. And tomorrow morning, the sun would rise in the west.
“I noticed something strange on our journey here,” Rain said, gulping down yet another cupful of buttered tea. “When you spar with Jukai, no one loses. You both draw your weapons and go at each other, but it always ends the same way, with you breathless, yet still standing. I don’t get it.”
“Is that so?” As if. He clearly knew Jukai was holding back to give Zian face.
“It is. I mean, why keep training with a man who obviously wants you dead?” Ignoring Zian’s surprise, Rain continued speaking. “I can’t think of any other reason for Jukai to go easy on you. Is face really more important than preserving your life? A single defeat can teach you more than a thousand victories, and I’ve been defeated more times than I can count.” Smirking, he added, “Many of those defeats were at Mila’s hands.”
Now he was bragging about sparring with his beautiful betrothed. Swallowing his anger, Zian understood Rain’s meaning. Saving face wasn’t as important as gaining strength, because with enough strength, others would be forced to give face. Exhaling slowly, he inclined his head ever so slightly. Smiling, Rain stood and headed towards the door. “I’m glad we understand each other. Personally, I think this is a great idea and My Grand-Mentor agrees. She even arranged a private sparring room for our personal use. We can swear an oath if you feel it's necessary, but what happens in the sparring room, stays in the sparring room. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Zian replied as he followed behind, relieved to finally be able to spar with Sumila to his hearts content, without having to worry about face or reputation.
“Great.” Rain’s mood was oddly chipper for a man who just agreed to letting his Betrothed spar with another man. Didn’t he understand that Zian would now be in close, physical contact with Sumila? Such an intimate connection could lead to other types of physical contact, how could he not see this? Could it be Rain was forced into this betrothal by Akanai and didn’t hold Sumila in high esteem? Maybe he hoped she would fall in love with Zian and free him from his obligations. A blind fool is what he was to treat lovely Sumila so poorly, but one man’s loss was another man’s gain.
Blind to Zian’s thoughts, Rain prattled on. “Fung and Huu aren’t around, so with Li Song we have four for today, which is perfect. Since we have a 'young talents' theme going, I intend to bring Dastan in tomorrow. How about you ask BoShui to join us and even up the numbers? Then there won’t be anyone left out. A shame ZhiLan and Ryong went south, have you heard from them yet? Did they arrive safely?”
Missing a step, Zian blanched at the implications. No, no, he hadn’t thought this through, too focused on sparring with Sumila in private. Did he just agree to spar with his hated rival? And on a daily basis no less?
Only now did he understand the proverb ‘a life with love is happy; a life for love is foolish’.
Chapter Meme